


The Phantom Feet Outside

by BlueWonder



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Ghost Cas, Ghost Castiel, One Shot, ghostiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-29
Updated: 2014-01-29
Packaged: 2018-01-10 10:53:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1158826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueWonder/pseuds/BlueWonder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was something wrong and both Bobby and Castiel knew it, but neither wanted to fully admit it.<br/>That there was something wrong with Castiel.<br/>That Castiel shouldn’t have been there, standing in front of him with those solemn eyes of his. Because Cas should have been gone, stabbed by the demons over and over again as he bled out in Dean’s arms (Dean still wouldn’t talk about it). He shouldn’t have been there like nothing was wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Phantom Feet Outside

Bobby Singer was the first to find the angel.

Castiel had been missing twelve days when Bobby found him wandering around outside his house. He was just looking at everything, memorizing every detail as if it would be the last time he ever got to. But he looked almost normal, checking up on the warding and how well everything was protected. It was like he had never disappeared in the first place. It was…unsettling.

“Cas?” Bobby called out, a little unsure of what to expect. It had been hell when they lost Cas, demons everywhere. Had he somehow managed to get free? Cas looked up at him, eyes piercing into Bobby’s skull as typical. Bobby was stuck, stuck by the fact that Cas was standing there and maybe that would mean Dean would stop moping and could get on with his life.

“Bobby,” Cas said firmly, voice as low and gravelly as ever. It sounded like nothing had changed. “The wards are holding. You’ve maintained them better than expected.” Bobby snorted at the statement. Typical Cas and his callous praise, biting as well as complimenting. “But something is amiss with your Enochian over here. It will not hold for much longer,” Cas explained, gesturing to a symbol that was only half completed. “You need to fix it else everything could be compromised.”

“How did you escape the demons, Cas? They had you surrounded,” Bobby finally said, unable to keep his silence any longer. His left hand was already clenching around the silver knife in his back pocket, pulling it out slowly in case it wasn’t actually Castiel. Cas was watching him with level eyes, nodding when he observed Bobby moving to defend himself. But he didn’t stop it, didn’t offer up objection.

There was something wrong and they both knew it, but neither wanted to fully admit it.

That there was something wrong with Castiel.

That Castiel shouldn’t have been there, standing in front of him with those solemn eyes of his. Because Cas should have been gone, stabbed by the demons over and over again as he bled out in Dean’s arms (Dean still wouldn’t talk about it). He shouldn’t have been there like nothing was wrong.

“What do you mean?” Cas asked, honest confusion thrown across his face. It was like he didn’t know. Like he’d never realized how close to death he had been. Castiel tried to return his face to stone, but the ever present question was still written on his face. What was wrong?

“You’ve been missing for twelve days. We looked everywhere for you! Dean’s been killing himself because he thought you died!” Bobby shouted, unable to keep all the vehemence out of his voice. Dean was tearing himself up and Castiel didn’t even seem to give a damn!

“I’m sorry,” Cas said hesitantly, eyes following Bobby’s angry movements. “I did not mean to worry you. I am unsure of where I’ve been myself.” Cas gestured uselessly, sighing and turning his eyes skyward as he often did during times of confusion. And Bobby let himself cling to that, the idea that maybe Cas was okay and was actually standing right there.

“I’m gonna call the boys,” Bobby finally announced after a few minutes of terse silence. The angel had been avoiding eye contact and the hunter wouldn’t stop looking. Bobby liked to think it was some sort of twisted revenge for all of Cas’s unsettling gazes he’d been on the receiving end for. “They’ll be glad to know you’re alive.”

Well, Sam would. Bobby wasn’t sure whether Dean would hug him or hit him for worrying them so badly. It was anyone’s guess at that point. Dean’s gratitude and the relief would come later, after he’d checked his friend over, found the skin beneath his fingers.

Castiel simply nodded.

Pulling out his phone, Bobby dialed the familiar number quickly. “Dean, Sam. I’ve got Cas here. Come back. Screw the food.” He hung up, not even waiting to hear their answer. “They’ll be here in ten,” he promised, nodding at Castiel.

The angel stared and Bobby found himself freezing under the gaze, shivering.

Bobby wondered how he looked to the angel then, tired and bone weary, and sick of life. Sam was doing okay, optimistic to the core. But Dean was probably the worst. The whole Cas-situation had really drained him, even if he wasn’t willing to show it half the time.

It was a few minutes before Cas made another noise. But it wasn’t a good noise. Cas grabbed at his chest suddenly, a gasp of pain forcing him to bend over.

“Cas?” Bobby noticed that Cas was bleeding, dangerous amounts spilling from his chest. He was trying to keep it in, hands gripping at the skin, trying to hold it together.

“I’ll be fine,” Cas ground out, face tight with pain. Bobby took a step forward, hesitant to face whatever was injuring Cas. But he couldn’t just let him get hurt. “I can handle this. I think my vessel has merely been compromised.” But it was clear that Cas was struggling, biting his lip as he tried to remain standing.

Bobby screwed whatever fear was holding back, moving towards Cas because the guy needed help.

“Bobby?!” Bobby looked up, back towards the sound. The boys. They’d finally arrived. Thank God. “Where’s Cas?!” Dean shouted gruffly as he bolted out of the Impala, barely stopping to turn off the ignition.

“What are you, blind?! He’s right…here.” Bobby froze as he turned back to where Cas had been, bleeding profusely. But there was nothing left, just the dirt. There wasn’t even any blood. Had Cas really been there? “He was right there!” Bobby insisted, but it was no use. He could already see Dean’s face falling. His face betrayed his anxiety despite the mask of calm he was trying to instill over it.

Sam’s hand moved to his shoulder because Sam understood, had experienced loss too. Dean shrugged it off, stalking inside. “I think you’re more tired than you realize, Bobby,” Sam began.

“He was here, Sam! I did not fly over the cuckoo’s nest! He was here!”

* * *

Sam Winchester was the first to touch the angel.

“Sam, should you not be inside?” Sam froze as he heard Cas speak to him. It was late and he’d needed a walk to clear his head. Dean was silent and Bobby was pissed off and he was just going crazy from being around those two. But this…this was not what he had expected.

Castiel had been gone twenty-eight days by that point.

The location of their fight with the demons had been combed over twelve times, no evidence pulled up at all. It was impossible to tell what happened to Cas, especially since no one was sure what Cas could still do in terms of healing. He was lost in that limbo of Heaven and Earth.

“Cas!” Sam shouted, moving towards him as fast as he could. He could feel his heart racing, Bobby’s stories about his hallucination of Castiel coalescing in his head to form one sentence. “He was right,” he breathed out, moving forward with every word. “You’re alive!”

“Of course I’m alive. Why wouldn’t I be? I…” Cas trailed off as he coughed, blood escaping his lips. He gripped at his chest, legs failing him. He buckled, falling to his knees as he continued to cough out blood. The change was so sudden, so unexpected that even Cas seemed surprised by it.

“Cas! Hey! I got you,” Sam said as he reached Cas, helping him reach the ground without jostling the injuries anymore. He evaluated Cas’s condition quickly, trying to get as much as he could from just one look.

Cas’s pupils were blown with pain, black swallowing the clear blue irises he’d come to associate with Cas. The blood was blossoming along his shirt and why was it dripping from his forehead?! Oh God, he’d been injured and lost within the endlessness of the earth for the last twenty-eight days. Who knew what other kind of injuries he had?!

_Apply pressure to the wound until help arrives. Keep patient awake. Do not attempt to move the patient unless necessary._

“Let’s get you to Dean. He can help,” Sam promised, nodding to himself. Dean would be able to fix it. Dean was always able to fix it. And Dean would want to see it.

“I assure you,” Cas started, pausing to grunt in pain as he adjusted. “I’m fine.” If only he was. If only he was actually okay.  Sam whipped out his cell phone, typing with one hand as he moved to take Cas’s pulse.

“I don’t want to talk, Sam. Just go away,” the voice growled out along one end.

“Dean, listen to me. I have Cas right here. Bobby wasn’t lying. Come downstairs. We’re right outside,” he stated, trying to keep his voice from wavering. He thought he did a damn good job. Especially since Cas could have been dying in his arms right then and he would have no idea how to deal with it.

And then his hand found Cas’s neck, found his pulse.

“Cas, your skin.” Sam’s thoughts kept moving, forging ahead in maddened panic, but his hand was frozen against the bare skin of Cas’s neck.

“What’s wrong?” Cas asked, tiredly picking up his head from where it had lolled forward. “What’s wrong with my skin?” But there was a concerned glint in his voice, different from the protestations that he had tried earlier. This was something he didn’t understand.

Sam couldn’t move his hand. It was trapped there, frozen to Castiel’s ice-cold corpse skin. “So cold,” he whispered and suddenly his other hand was whipping around, moving for the wrist. “Bobby!” Sam shouted, looking for some sort of help. Dean was still inside, still listening on the other end of the phone.

“Sam, what’s going on?” Dean asked, sounding like he had a purpose again as he threw himself out the door. Sam could hear him running through the house, sounds coming from the house and the phone. Sam breathed out with a strangled sigh. He was trying to hold herself together, not freak out because Cas was gone and then he was back and he should have been dead, but he wasn’t and none of it made sense. None of it was right!

“Bobby wasn’t lying! Cas is here and he’s freezing!” Sam’s voice lowered to a conspirator’s whisper. “Like he should be dead, freezing.” The silence on the other end of the phone was all he needed to hear to know Dean was thinking.

“Sam, I’m sorry,” Cas said slowly, gripping at his shirt and pulling him close. “I’m sorry for everything.”

“Sam?!” Bobby reached the door, bursting through. Sam looked up, watching Bobby come out. “Where is Cas?!”

“He’s right…here.” Sam paused, looking around him, the ground which had been occupied by Cas only seconds earlier. And then he was gone. Again. He was gone all over again!

“Cas?!” Sam’s heart broke all over again when Dean appeared at the door, sprinting out at full speed because that was all he had done in twenty-eight days. “Where is he?!” Dean shouted at Sam, hands balling into fists.

“He was here. He was here!” Sam shouted, looking helplessly at the two gathered before her. And he hated the way Dean seemed to break, curling in on himself once he realized Cas was gone. Cas was just as dead as he had been before. “He was here!”

He had to have been.

Sam could still feel the corpse cool skin beneath his fingers.

* * *

Bobby Singer was the first to question the angel.

“Bobby,” Cas said in introduction. He was leaning against a wall of the house, watching Bobby fix the sigil that he had mentioned previously. “The sigil is supposed to be done in Enochian, not Latin.”

“Why are you doing this?” the hunter asked, not even bothering to feign surprise. They’d all started to expect that they’d see him again, the phantom angel that disappeared right before anyone else could see him. Dean thought that a witch had gotten to them and they were rolling with the theory. After Sam’s episode, they’d all started to get ready.

Dean had been convinced that Sam was on the demon blood again for awhile, going through withdrawals and seeing crazy shit again because “Cas is dead, damn it! He’s gone! He’s not coming back! Ever!”

Dean had forcibly kept Sam in the panic room for the first two days to make sure, despite his protestations that he knew what he was talking about and that Cas had been most definitely alive, if cold like a corpse. They kept arguing, Sam saying that he was perfectly sane, and the stress on Dean’s face had shown that. He couldn’t find what was wrong.

And they couldn’t find any hex bag.

“Why am I doing what? I am…confused.” Bobby finally turned to face the angel, the apparition, the fake. It wasn’t Castiel. It couldn’t be. The angel was missing, had been for the last two months. He wasn’t coming back. He hadn’t called, hadn’t contacted in any way. He was dead. He had to be.

“I don’t know, but you keep appearing and you ain’t Cas.” Bobby’s glare cut hard through the angel, but Bobby had to look away in the end, unable to keep looking. He couldn’t look at the man with the black eye and the broken arm and the stab wound. He couldn’t look at Cas like that. “But there has to be a reason you keep appearing. So what are you? Demon? Ghoul? Witch?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Don’t even bother trying to fool us! We ain’t gonna fall for your tricks again,” Bobby spat out, but he stopped, pulling out his phone. “Sam, he’s here,” he started quietly, beginning without preamble. He leveled his eyes on the apparition of his friend, paling slightly. “And he’s injured. Badly.” Cas was listing against the wall, blood smearing through a couple of the sigils. Bobby tried not to pay attention.

“Where are you?” Sam’s strained voice came across the other end and Bobby could already hear Dean moving. This was the one hunt that kept Dean going. Dean had accepted it. Cas was dead, had to be. It had been two months and no word.

But hell if he’d let a witch destroy that memory.

“I’m coming down. Don’t look away.”

“Was that Sam?” Cas asked, hand pressed against his side as he tried to hold himself together.

“None of your damn business. You’re not even real,” Bobby answered with a huff. He had to admit, the spell was surprisingly well crafted. Usually there were more noticeable flaws and so far there wasn’t much. Though the Castiel apparition being injured was an unusual choice of image.

“I don’t understand why you keep saying that. I am real. I am not an apparition or a spell. I’m real,” Cas pushed, almost pleading it sounded like. “You have to believe me, Bobby,” Cas argued, stumbling forward, clutching at his broken arm and his face and why was he injured? Bobby turned away. It was his guilt that made Cas appear so beaten. He couldn’t save him when the demons came so of course he’d appear like this. Just like he would have appeared in the last moments after the demons killed him.

It was just guilt.

“Who sent you? Why are you doing this?!” Bobby growled out, slamming his hand into the wall. He didn’t even care that he could feel something in his give.All he wanted was for Cas to be back and Dean to crawl out of his bottle and his bedroom and Sam to take a breath from his research and to stop stalking the walls.

“I’m not doing anything! I don’t know what’s going on!” Cas shouted, looking around,as if only realizing where he was. There was a dazed wildness to his eyes, tightly pulled in to be masked under his image of carefully slipping control.

“Bobby?!” Bobby felt a pang of regret when it was Dean that burst out. Even after all this time, he was the one who came, still hopeful that it would be Cas. Dean stopped outside after a second, looking around before his eyes settled on Bobby. “Alright, let’s get you inside,” he stated, pulling at Bobby’s arm.

“But Cas is…” Bobby sent a glance back at where Cas had been standing, finding the it devoid of anyone but him and the other hunter.

“He wasn’t here. It was a curse. Remember? Cas is dead.”

* * *

Sam Winchester was the first to dismiss the angel.

“Sam, I need-” Cas started, gasping between words. As Cas spoke, Sam shivered, biting the inside of his cheek as he tried not to look up. He was outside, sitting on the porch as he researched. He couldn’t stand be cramped inside anymore.

“Dean told me all about the curse. He told me that you would appear. Therefore, it’s pointless for you to try and speak with me. You are not Cas,” Sam stated, fingers continuing to whir over his laptop’s keyboard as he continued to search for witch’s curses that came even close to this.

Why was there nothing like this?

“Sam, please,” the angel tried again, stumbling forward towards his friend. Sam hadn’t even looked up yet, some tiny part knowing that it would just make the situation worse. He couldn’t look up, lest he completely succumb to the idea that it really was Castiel. He couldn’t do that to himself or to Dean.

They couldn’t keep telling Dean that Cas was there. It had been three months. It was bad enough already. They didn’t need to reopen anymore wounds.

“You should leave,” Sam continued, dismissing Castiel casually as he continued to work. He paused after a second, turning to his cell phone. “Dean, he’s here. I’m gonna go inside.”

“Wait there, Sam. I’ll come to you,” Dean gruffly instructed, voice tight and strained. Cas coughed from his corner, lurching forward, to brace himself against the wall of the house.

“Sam, please.”

Sam didn’t move. Not until he could hear Dean standing on the porch next to him, trying not to cry because everyone got to see his angel. Everyone but him.

Sam didn’t move.

* * *

Dean Winchester was the first to understand the angel.

“Dean, I need help.” Dean stiffened at the sound of Cas’s voice. He’d suspected it would happen eventually, that Cas would appear to him. He’d appeared to Sam and Bobby after all. It was just a matter of time. And besides, he was the one who would be most torn up by it. Of course the witch would send her apparition after him in the end. It had been five months. He'd expected it to come sooner.

Every time he walked outside, he could feel himself being followed by the phantom feet. They were always there, always watching. Just like how Cas used to.

“You’re not real. You don’t exist,” Dean told the angel just as much as he told himself. It had been five months since he’d last seen Cas. It couldn’t be him. Cas couldn’t be there. It was the witch’s curse or something. It had to be. But their research was failing. They couldn’t find any leads and no one knew what was going on.

“Please, Dean. I need your help. It hurts.” Dean found himself frozen, feeling the way his breath cool against the inside of his mouth. “Dean…please.” And it was that heartbreaking beg that really did it for Dean. How could he pretend it wasn’t Cas when it sounded just like him? When he turned around, Dean finally understood. Cas was leaning against the house as the wounds blossomed out along his chest and his head.

“Oh, Cas. Oh, Cas.” It came out as a sort of half whine, desperate and sad and pitying all at the same time. Dean breathed out, watching his breath condense in front of him despite the eighty degree weather outside.

Ghost.

“Those demons killed you, didn’t they?” he asked, taking a step forwards hesitantly. “You were more human than anyone realized.” Cas was staring at him, eyes wide and nervous. Castiel was leaning against the wall heavily, blood soaking through his shirt and his trench coat and his hair. And he was shaking with the pain, biting at his lip to keep from saying anything.

“It hurts, Dean,” he moaned out.

“I’ll fix it. I promise.” Dean tried to smile in reassurance, but it came out rather sickly. “Why didn’t you just come to me in the first place?” he finally asked and Cas shuddered again, feeling the spasm rip through his muscles. It was the closest Dean would ever get to showing how much it hurt that Cas had waited to come to him, left him the in the dark for so long.

“I didn't know at first. I was confused. And you’ve done so much. I couldn’t…I couldn’t do that to you.” And Dean was struck by the honesty in his words. Even after everything, Cas cared enough to try and not get him involved.

“Cas…This will make everything better,” Dean promised, giving that sickly smile again. “Ready?” Cas nodded, still gripping at the window sill behind him with white knuckles. It was probably better that way, just sending him to Heaven instead of trying to resurrect him. Cas deserved some peace and Dean needed to let him go once and for all.

Dean pulled out his lighter, creating a small flame. They both stared at it for a second, unable to really move because that was it. When that got thrown down, it would all be over. “I’m gonna burn you now, send you off to Heaven.” Dean’s voice wavered, hands shaking, but he continued staring at Cas. That was it. That was the last he was going to ever see of Castiel.

“Thank you, Dean.”

Sam and Bobby found Dean staring at the pile of ash four hours later.

"Dean?" Sam asked quietly, unsure of whether it was best to leave his brother or not. Dean was frozen as he stood there, unmoving, unblinking it seemed. Bobby and Sam exchanged glances, but their eyes were quickly drawn back to Dean.

"I took care of it. Cas won't be showing up anymore.” Dean didn’t even look up, eyes still fixated on that little pile in front of him. His voice sounded hollow, empty and reverberating in his chest.

“Dean?”

“Let’s just go inside.”


End file.
